Special Consideration (by Sexghosts)
by CatandKaraForever
Summary: Cat works through her feelings. Also, picture Dr. Rosenswieg as Lily Tomlin. NOT MY WORK! ALL CREDIT GOES TO SEXGHOSTS ON ARCHIVE OF OUR OWN.


**Special Consideration (by Sexghosts)**

 **Fandom: Supergirl  
Author: Sexghosts (Archive of Our Own author, this work is merely copied to get more publicity for them)**

 **Rating: K**

Cat was not tossing in her bed tonight, but she was definitely awake and not falling asleep any time soon. It wasn't just that she was still borne on the energy of the day's disaster, an earthquake whose magnitude had torn open streets, crushed vehicles, and leveled a few buildings. It was that she had gotten on the air, thanks to the frantic efforts of that barely competent Wick or whatever his name was, and appealed to the better angels of National City's nature. And it had worked.

She knew it had worked, because Supergirl had told her so.

She lay staring at the ceiling, annoyingly awake despite the loud breathing of her white noise machine beside the bed, remembering the sight of Supergirl floating a good five feet above the terrace outside her office, her cape billowing softly in the night breezes, telling her: _It inspired me._

That shouldn't mean something to her, but it did. Yes, Supergirl was her brand, her creation, but Supergirl was also a hero, and Cat had to make a conscious effort to not to act as intrigued by her powers as she was. Being impressed by things was bad for her image, she had decided long ago.

Supergirl had landed, lighter than a bird, on the terrace, and placed a hand on her shoulder, and said it again: _You inspired me_. And then added, _You often do_. There was something oddly familiar to her touch that had startled Cat. Not that it was in any way specifically inappropriate, but still, it had felt surprisingly, weirdly intimate given that they barely knew each other. Something in the lightness of it, the way her fingertips curled slightly into her shoulder, the way her thumb brushed, once, carelessly, over her collarbone.

And Cat had felt something stir in her body for the second time that week. _Damn it_ , she thought to herself as she lay here in her large bed, in her large penthouse, _what is it with me and these younger women lately?_

 _Then again, Supergirl is an alien, she could be a lot older than she looks. She could be three hundred years old and then I'd be the fresh faced youngster in this exchange, wouldn't that be a riot?_

Possible, but not likely.

She heard the shuffling sound of Carter tiptoeing along the hall to her door and lingering there for a moment.

"What is it, Carter? It's late, you should go to sleep."

"I can't," he confessed in a small voice.

His school had, luckily, been away from the worst of it, but he had spent a good bit of time worrying whether his mother was safe and, like most of National City, wondering where Supergirl was.

She hadn't really gotten a straight answer out of her about that, she realized. She had gotten sidetracked by the hand on her shoulder and the way Supergirl was standing a little too close to her. "You're not planning on kissing me, are you?" she'd demanded, her voice a little sly, as she looked at those pretty lips and considered the prospect.

Supergirl had paused awkwardly and then responded with, "Why? Are you already… seeing someone?"

 _Nope,_ Cat reflected, _obviously not three hundred years old. Probably not even thirty._ "No," she'd explained with a tone of patience that was clearly being tried, "I think that it would throw my journalistic integrity into question."

Well, she'd flown off after that, and left Cat standing there on the terrace, smiling to herself. Not many people could turn down Supergirl, including, she supposed, a sizable portion of National City's straight women and (after doing something about that outfit) gay men. She didn't particularly want to pass on it, mind you, it just would have been too complicated.

 _More complicated than my repeated insistence on kissing my assistant?_ she thought dryly. She still hadn't quite worked out what to do with that.

As if on cue, Carter shuffled into the room and parked himself on the edge of the bed. "Was everyone at the office okay? Is Kara ok?"

Carter had taken a shine to Kara since the time she'd babysat for him, despite it having almost been an unqualified disaster, and his affection for her wasn't a small thing; the boy rarely came out of his shell for anyone.

What was it about that girl anyway?

"Yes," she answered, ruffling his hair. "I sent her a text to make sure. I knew you'd be worried."

He gave her a sidelong glance and a little smile and said nothing more.

"Now come on, honey, go to bed. You need your beauty sleep,"

He smiled tiredly and passed toward the door. "So do you," he replied, yawning.

"I'm beautiful enough," she huffed, and rolled into her side.

"And what do you think that means?"

Cat crossed and uncrossed her legs, and stared at the buckles on her shiny black Prada shoes. "You're the professional," she rejoined irritably. "You tell me." She looked at the aging Coast District hippie in the wingchair in front of her, and then shifted on the leather couch. "Honestly, what am I paying you for?"

Dr. Rosensweig sighed with an indulgent little smile. "You know that's not how therapy works, Catherine, and if I did tell you what to do you, you wouldn't listen anyway, because you don't like people telling you what to do." She fiddled idly with the large, chunky amber beads of her necklace.

Cat frowned an acknowledgement of that last truth. "Anyway, I don't know what it means. I mean, of course I'm attracted to Supergirl, she's Supergirl."

"I'm attracted to Supergirl," Dr. Rosensweig offered cheerfully.

"She's blonde, she's pretty…" She paused, remembering that moment on the terrace. "...you know, my assistant–"

"What's her name again?"

Cat paused. "Kara. Kara… she actually looks a little like her. I mean, not as tall or as fit, or as…" She broke off. "But still...I wonder if that's why I'm attracted to her." Well, that was a sad and discomfiting thought.

"But it sounds you had an actual chance with Supergirl, and you passed. Why?"

Cat frowned. "Well… I like being in control of things, obviously. I'm not sure how I feel about being in a relationship with an equal."

"An equal?" Rosensweig ran a few fingers through her dark, scraggly waves. "You're referring to Supergirl."

"Obviously," Cat snapped. "Is there a problem?"

Rosensweig hooted. "No! Not at all. Please go on!"

"In any case, as attractive as Supergirl is, I couldn't be in charge."

"Because she's an equal," Rosensweig chuckled.

"Obviously. And I wonder whether I'm attracted to Kara because of the passing resemblance but without having to give up being in control."

"Well, that's a very astute and self aware question to ask yourself."

"Of course it is," Cat sniffed. She mulled it over. She'd had her own worries about whether Kara's attraction to her was to her for what she was, or because of what she represented, Cat Grant, Queen of All Media. But here she was, forced to consider whether her own attraction was based not on what Kara was, but what she represented; a more malleable substitute for Supergirl.

"And it could be," Rosensweig continued. "Or, it could be that you're attracted to young, pretty blonde women. That's not exactly a weird, rarefied taste, you know."

Cat crossed her arms and studied Rosensweig for a moment. "Well, you're being awfully flippant."

"I thought that was what you liked about me," the wrinkled hippie responded, raising an eyebrow.

Cat rolled her eyes.

"Why'd you hire her?" Rosensweig asked.

"What?"

"Why'd you hire her? It couldn't have been because she looked like Supergirl. There was no Supergirl at the time, was there?"

"No," Cat acknowledged, not quite sure what her shrink was getting at.

"So why'd you hire her?"

"She seemed… reliable and eager … and sweet…" She floundered for a moment. "But that's not why. She just had such a different… energy about her. It was a refreshing change from all these self-serious journalism grads who think they know everything." Cat drummed on the arm of the sofa for a moment.

"Look," Rosensweig began, leaning forward in her chair. "You're attracted to the girl, you're not sure why, so? Find out. Get to know her a little and see if there's really anything under there or if your motivations are as nefarious as you think they are. Just be careful so you don't end up with a lawsuit."

Cat considered this for a few moments. "Thank you, Dr. Rosensweig. Now that is what I pay you for."

"Kara! Come in here, please!"

Cat sat at her desk, waiting for Kara to come scurrying in. "Yes, Miss Grant?"

She looked at those wide eyes that seemed to want nothing but her affection, or failing that, her approval. "Kara, get your things."

A look of panic crossed the girl's face. "What?"

"Your purse. And whatever else. Get it. You need to go somewhere with me."

"Um, are… are we coming back?"

Cat sighed. "It's five o' clock, so, no." She resisted the instinct to slap the desktop with her hands and add, "Chop chop!"

Kara nervously followed Cat down to the bar downstairs where Cat had taken her for drinks that time Kara had lost her temper. She had no idea why she was being brought down here or what she had done this time, though. And Cat was not exactly forthcoming during the elevator trip, or the walk down the block.

They sat down at the bar, and Cat ordered up a couple of martinis. Kara obediently sipped at hers, and finally asked. "So, um, Miss Grant, what's… what's going on?"

Cat drank about half her martini in one shot. "Now listen, Kara, I am doing this against my better judgment, but… I feel compelled."

Kara's throat closed.

"I am not the type of person, as you well know, who tolerates a lot of loose ends, a lot of sloppiness, a lack of clarity. You know that, I think."

Kara nodded. "Miss Grant, if I–"

"Don't interrupt me," Cat cut her off. "There need to be ground rules, and we need to follow them, or else everything goes to shit faster than you can say, Cat Grant is a genius."

Ground rules? What had she done wrong? Kara couldn't fathom what it could be. Since the correspondent's dinner, she'd bent over backwards to be as on point as possible, anticipating Cat's needs before she announced them, making sure her lattes were hot and her salads were crisp and that the spreads for the next day were delivered ahead of schedule.

"So. We are going to lay down those ground rules now, to avoid problems before they happen. Proactivity, a concept I believe you're familiar with, since I've noticed you've stepped up your game in the last week, which I appreciate."

Kara was confused. "So … Miss Grant-?"

"I'm not finished. And THAT is the first ground rule, by the way. You will address me as Miss Grant at the office, at all times, but when we're someplace like this..."

"Are you… are you firing me? Or, giving me advice? I don't understand–"

Cat rolled her eyes and sighed. "No, Kara. I am asking you on a date. But we're not going to try this without establishing some boundaries first."

Kara's heart stopped. "What?"

"Did I stutter? I'm asking you on a date." She downed half of what remained in her glass.

"Like a real date?"

"As opposed to a fake date?"

Kara grinned shyly. "As opposed to bringing me places under professional auspices and then kissing me." She suppressed a giggle. "I guess that is what you'd call a fake date."

Cat smirked, swirled her glass playfully for a minute, and then acknowledged, "Fine, I suppose so. But how about a real one? Dinner? Not in a room full of journalists and politicians?"

Kara felt her cheeks grow pink. "Really?"

"Really."

"Where?"

Cat paused. "Well… you already know what I like, but the point of this is for me to start getting to know you, so… what's your favorite food?"

Kara felt like she was watching someone else have this conversation. "I… um, I really like Chinese… and Japanese…"

"Sushi?"

Kara nodded. "I love sushi." She noticed that Cat had made short work of the martini she was drinking. She pieced together for the first time that the smart, tough, sexy Cat Grant might actually be a little nervous about asking her out. She giggled at this.

"What's the matter with you?" Cat demanded.

"Nothing," Kara chuckled.

"I know excellent sushi," Cat went on. She drained her martini, set the glass down on the bar, and raised her hand to wave the bartender down for another.

But Kara caught her hand, leaned forward, and kissed her before she could get the request out. She couldn't help herself; she had permission now. She had permission to want her, permission to touch her, permission to plant one on her if she felt like it. She knew she did, because she felt Cat kiss her back. They stayed that way for half a minute.

Cat pulled back. "What do you think you're doing?"

Kara sighed. "I don't know?"

"Rules, Kara. Rules. We can't do this here, alright?"

Kara pouted. "Rules. Right. What are they again?"

Cat's look became sly again. "We'll discuss it in the car."

"The car?"

Cat whipped out her phone and hit something. "Seamus, bring the car around, please. Yes."

They walked out to the curb, where Seamus was pulling up.

He opened the door and let them in. "Where to, Miss Grant?"

"Ota-Ya, Seamus," she said. "And… Seamus?"

"Yes, Miss Grant?"

"Take a needlessly scenic route, won't you?"


End file.
